


maybe we should run

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Hotels, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Skye and Coulson run away together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe we should run

**i. useless**

They arrive in Shanghai in the middle of a cold wave.

Trying to look inconspicuous they arrive at dawn, walk into of the fish market to gather their bearings and formulate the day's plan. Skye still unsure to take planes – other than the Bus and its mixed blessing of a vibration-absorbent cell. Coulson has watched her practice breathing techniques all the way here.

The day is orange and blue reflected on a high skyline. Living underground Coulson was starting to forget cities. It's a bit of a shock to the system.

There are mostly restaurant and hotel people buying at the market right now. The distinctive smell of the place somehow softened by the sharp freshness of the first minutes after dawn. They sit in a cafe inside, behind the stalls, used mostly by those who work here, strong men and women eating steamed buns and blissfully not looking at Coulson and Skye.

He goes to buy them something to drink, language barrier and all.

He sees Skye even shivering under her thick coat.

"You really don't like the cold, do you," he says, handling her the cup.

Milk tea. 

"Good, right?" he asks.

"You have a sweet tooth," she comments.

She has seen the kind of stuff he has been eating the last day travelling here.

He has bought a couple of crullers, too, generously sprinkled with sugar.

"I'm not hungry," Skye mutters.

Coulson doesn't push. Though he's pretty sure she didn't eat that much last night. 

He is not the Director of SHIELD right now. She's not an agent.

Definitely not _his_ agent.

From the outside they probably look like two people between places, or outcasts, or lonely souls, maybe criminals escaping justice. As a fantasy Coulson doesn't dislike it. They are somewhat anonymous, if only for a couple of days.

For a couple of days.

Even his clothes. They look like someone else's. But he can't say he misses his suit right now.

Skye checks out her phone.

"Here's Raina's last known base of operations," she tells him. She frowns. "But it's pretty old information."

"It's a stab in the dark," he agrees. 

"Yeah."

"But that's not why we're doing this."

"Thank you," Skye says, avoiding his eyes. "I mean – I know this is useless. And we have other teams tracking her down but..."

"That's not why we're doing this," he repeats.

The Playground was beginning to close in on Skye a bit – and on him as well, he admits – for all the well-meaning attention of her teammates. But she's not ready to actually face these things head on – Raina, her father, whatever connection to her legacy those threads would yield. This is a wild goose chase, he realizes, but a wild goose chase might be exactly what she needs.

(What he needs.)

Even now, this moment, Coulson is not sure who proposed the trip in the first place.

Who wanted to leave, and who _followed_.

He stares at her hand on the table, picking up the pastry then leaving it on the paper plate again. She's fidgety and trying very hard not to be. He can see her recalling her training, under her breath.

It's okay to be useless from time to time, he wants to tell her. Except he hasn't been that since he was eighteen, and for Skye it was possibly earlier in life. Maybe they don't know how to do it. That's why they invent excuses. Forty-eight hours of pretending they don't need a moment to breathe outside the Playground.

"You also needed this. Right?" Skye asks. Unusual anxiety in her voice. Like she wants to make sure she's not wasting his time.

Coulson nods slowly. He can't feel the brunt of it all just yet, it would crush him. He can only feel it by degrees. And only when he is with Skye. It's different with everyone else. He has to be strong for them. But with Skye he doesn't have to pretend. It's a twisted logic, he knows – one would think Skye is precisely the person who needs him to be strong the most – and yet it works.

"After Trip, after hitting Hydra hard, after Mack and Bobbi, after..." he stares at her an stops.

"After the mess I've gotten you into. That's what you were going to say, isn't it?"

"After all that, yes, I'm grateful to be able to disconnect."

Skye laces her fingers together, leaning forward over the table.

"Looking for the guy who almost beat you to death is not exactly disconnecting."

Coulson gives her a smile. He doesn't think they are going to find Cal in this trip. The prospect of failure in this case is enticing. He's not frightened of the man but – it wasn't a pleasing experience. He also doesn't think Skye is in any condition to deal with her father's crap about destiny right now. But that's her call, he's not going to stop her. He never wants to stop Skye.

That was the whole point.

She wanted to run.

(Maybe he wanted to run, too)

He looks away, trying to deflect attention. His feelings on the matter – Skye's father – might not be entirely useful, because of biased. Because a part of him envies her, which is unfair. But a stupid, childish part of him is jealous, because her father is out there, even if his a monster, and Coulson thinks he could stand a monster as his father, if only he came back to him.

It only lasts a moment, that envy. He feels ugly just thinking it, and like he's betraying Skye. But it's enough that he doesn't feel like telling her what to do. 

"There's a computer market not too far from here, if you want –"

"You really have memorized the city guide, uh?"

This time she smiles more openly.

"It pays to be prepared," Coulson tells her.

A truck comes up in front of them while workers walk up with boxes full of ice. Coulson and Skye watch in silence for a while, as they pour the fresh fish over the side of the truck and into the boxes, ready to be sold. It's still too early for tourists or foodies. The movement of people is so natural, so precise, it's mesmerizing.

"Thank you," Coulson says, trying to sound casual.

"What?" Skye asks, tearing her gaze from the market employees. There's a beat of hesitation before she asks the question, something that's unlike her.

"For letting me come with you."

Skye nods.

He watches as she finally starts eating their breakfast.

 

 

**ii. useful**

"We have to help her," Skye says, sliding to the edge of her bed, stating the obvious.

"We will," he assures her. "They can't have gone far."

It might not be true. Ward is wounded, again, but always resourceful. They have the cooperation of the police, finally, but Agent 33 is well-trained, even in her brainwashed state she knows how to avoid detection. 

Coulson is sitting on his own bed, next to hers, just coming out of the bathroom, his hair still wet, no shoes on. It fascinates Skye, the intimacy of the last couple of days, like she's seeing something familiar so up close that it starts to look completely unfamiliar.

They've been three days on the road but it feels a lot longer to her. Not necessarity in a bad way. There's the exhaustion of arriving in regional airports, splashing water on their faces in public bathrooms and following half-warm trails. They weren't exactly prepared for their latest encounter with former Agent 33. This is how they have ended up crashing somewhere outside Duluth, while the rest of the team follows contradictory trails all over the map.

Did they have to pick the coldest place, though? It feels like a punishment.

Skye still has her old tricks up her sleeve, living in transit and trying to stay out of sight. They are looking for someone, yes, but there are people out there looking for her as well. People even more questionable than her father. But she is good at that – fake names in motel receptions and avoiding security cameras. Also knowing in which places the security cameras are not really connected. She kind of has to look over her shoulder. Which is wht she's glad she's not alone. She's been wanting to be alone _a lot_ lately but not in this. Not out here in the world.

She remembers, looking for something inside the pockets of her hoodie.

"Here," she says, throwing a chocolate bar at Coulson. "Bought that in the machine outside while you were in the shower."

"White chocolate?"

"I know you like it sweet."

He arches an eyebrow. Skye didn't mean for it to sound so – whatever. She didn't mean it like that.

She guesses this is kind of domestic, sharing a twin room in a third rate motel with her boss. At least with Coulson she doesn't have to pretend to feel better than she actually does. She doesn't have to pretend to be braver for anyone's sake. And with Coulson she doesn't have to talk if she doesn't want to. She can be as quiet or as chatty as she feels like. He lets her have that space. It's not that – the team has been _great_ , supportive, protective, patient. Specially patient. With her powers, with her inability to do anything else with them but control them. Her team is loving and caring and sometimes it can make her wish she was still on her own, alone in the world. It just lasts a moment, one second sometimes, because they are trying so hard and so should she, it's not their fault. And she needs someone who understands that, who understand that split-of-second where she misses the loneliness of her old life, because in her old life she couldn't hurt anyone she loved, and she couldn't disappoint anyone. Coulson is that someone who just gets it. It might be an illusion. Maybe he doesn't really understand. Right now it doesn't matter, Right now maybe she just needs him.

She goes back to sitting cross-legged on the bed, pouring over her laptop.

Ward has wised up enough to leave his lockers full of money and documents alone. He has found other ways to support himself – Skye shudders to imagine, with Ward's skills and lack of scruples – but he still has to travel. And that's where Skye will eventually get him. No doubt.

"Ward was here on Wednesday," she says. That's why they picked this place. They are just taking the same route, but a couple of days behind. "Let's hope not in this very same room."

Coulson makes an ugly snorting-noise.

"I agree, sir," she teases.

She can see him subtly examining the clealiness of his bed. She half-smiles to herself.

"It's nice to use my old skills on the job, though," she adds. "Instead of you know – the new powers. This," she points at the screen, "this is why you wanted me to work for you in the first place."

Coulson does this thing with his face where Skye can tell he's about to say her name in that very precise way of his, that way he has of – 

" _Skye_."

She shakes her head, trying to be reassuring.

"It's nice feeling useful again instead of – well, you know."

"Not useful?" he offers.

"Dangerous."

Coulson nods slightly. That's the other reason why she's grateful to be paired up with Coulson on this mission, and not with someone like Hunter. Coulson probably wants to tell her that no one on the team considers her dangerous, but Skye knows that, so it wouldn't help. Well, it would help Coulson, which is probably why he shuts up, ultimately.

"You're always useful," he says, matter-of-factly.

And well, that's better than other platitudes he could have offered.

"But it's okay if you aren't, useful, from time to time," he adds.

She gestures towards the computer again.

"Well, right now, I kind of have to be."

"No, right now you need to be," Coulson agrees jokingly. "It's an order."

She smiles again. She can feel the smile wider this time, more relaxed.

 _More relaxed_ is not something that comes easy to her these days, even if she's – more or less – learned to stop herself from causing a cataclysm.

She studies him for a moment. He looks relaxed too. Maybe it's just tiredness. She finds him older in a way, but in a good way, if that makes any sense. More formed. More complete than he used to be. She feels calm in his presence these days. 

"You should get some rest," he tells her, looking at his wristwatch, and predictably.

Skye shifts in her seat, her eyes not really focusing on the screen.

"I don't feel much like sleeping," she says. Not these days anyway, but Coulson can probably notice the inflection. He's good at filling in the blanks.

There's a beat.

"Do I snore?" he asks.

She knows that's not what he wants to ask.

"Sometimes." He tries to look hurt. "But it's this soft, high-pitched sound. Really weird."

"Well, you... take too long in the bathroom."

She laughs. "No, I don't."

Coulson shakes his head.

"No, you don't," he admits.

Skye can feel his gaze on her while she goes back to the task at hand. He stares at lot at her lately. Or maybe he stares just as much as before, but differently. Skye doesn't exactly want it to stop. She's just not ready to know what it means. She wonders if she will ever be.

(If _he_ will ever be)

"I'm turning in, anyway," he says, eventually.

"I'm going to study these pictures a bit longer."

"Okay."

He turns the light off on his side.

There's this awkward room-sharing move he has to do – Skye too – where he takes off his pants under the covers and trying not to make too much noise. Skye smiles at the sound, why didn't he bring pajamas in the first place? Why didn't she? She has to take off her bra after she kills the lighst because there's no way she'll be around Coulson without wearing a bra. Not because he's her boss. But because he's Coulson, she guesses.

Not entirely domestic then.

Skye's packed the sleeping pills Simmos gave her, in case she wanted to sleep without the worry of causing any earth-shaking event; you would think the path to superpowers would spare you from having to worry about tearing the building down while you sleep but it doesn't. That's a mouthfoul, she realizes. And there's the other reason for both the pills and the sleeplessness; while on the road, while sharing a room with Coulson, she doesn't want to have to deal with the old nightmares, in case they come knocking. She doesn't want Coulson to have to see that.

She keeps working through the night. It's a bit comforting, though, his presence in the room. The soft snoring when he turns and hits a bad position. It's like white noise after a while and she kind of forgets. She kind of forgets but it's better with him here. Sort of everything is better.

Soon, without her noticing the hours go by, everything becomes tinged by the soft light of dawn.

Suddenly Coulson is half-awake, hugging his pillow and looking up at her. His hair is a mess and he has this groggy smile on his face.

"Hello," he says, still half asleep for sure, voice thick, the word like one would say to a lover after waking up next to them.

"Hi."

"Did you work all night?" he asks. He is still so soft and alive around the eyes. He looks younger. Or perhaps just innocent and sweet. Skye nods. "Did you make any progress?"

"Some," Skye replies. "I've already designed our route for today. Do you want to have coffee here or on the road?"

"On the road," Coulson says, then he stretches and then he hugs the pillow again, pressing his cheek against it, letting out a kind of moan like he has no intention of waking up.

Skye tilts her head towards the window. "It's snowing," she tells him.

His eyes wide a bit. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He makes a pleased sound and keeps staring at Skye from his pillow.

 

 

**iii. domestic**

He watches her watch the darkening surface of the sea, a soft smile playing on her lips, the kind only he gets to see, the kind she reserves for the times they spend alone.

"It's kind of cold out here," she declares, breaking the silence Coulson fantasizes has lasted since they arrived, so caught up staring at her he was...

Skye still doesn't like the cold.

"I'm sorry I picked off-season," she adds.

Coulson prefers it like that. Yes, it's kind of cold, but it's quiet. They need quiet. Skye needs it.

"It's fine," he says. "You needed the break."

"I guess I did."

Ever since her amazing powers were revealed to the world at large Skye's life has been a bit chaotic. And losing her father, monster that he was. And the team finally putting Ward down, and the wounds they have to lick after their latest encounter with Raina. Things have piled up for Skye in a short time. He can't imagine staring an affair with her boss has helped. Or maybe that's why she is doing this. Among all the things she didn't choose maybe this is one choice she can make. Coulson doesn't mind. He's glad to be able to be there for Skye in a way he couldn't before, a way Skye hasn't had in a while. And yes, he loves her, has loved her for quite some time, actually. He loves her and maybe, if quietly, he loves her desperatedly and hopelessly so. But that's sort of besides the point, in a way.

This is the point: being here, away from it all. For a moment. Skye wearing his jacket against the breeze. They are looking over at the sea and the lonely light of the local bar at the other end of the beach.

"I could make some dinner," Coulson offers.

"We didn't buy much."

"I can make soup."

"You're good at that," Skye says, smiling. Coulson is not sure if she means the soup or something else.

He fixes them a quick tomato soup, heavy on the basil, one of the emergency tricks he has up his sleeve when he doesn't feel like spending much time in the kitchen but still wants something comforting. They eat outside, Skye not wanting to move from her spot as night closes in and she can no longer tell where the sand ends and the water begins.

Coulson likes it out here. He likes this part of the country and wishes this could be a proper vacation, not in winter. He spent most of the car ride telling Skye about one summer vacation he had as a kid – not exactly somewhere like this, a little bit more humble – with her mother and some distant cousins, it was all beach and bike rides and sneaking into closed amusement parks and abandoned water parks. He was just remembering that. And Skye let him talk. He does a lot more of that these days, of talking.

The point is: yes, this is the kind of place where he'd like to go with his lovers. And yes, that seems to be exactly what he is doing right now.

Of course he feels the pang of old bureacreatic angst at not being in the Playground to run things personally. But it's unjustified. Billy and May got this. And they have Bobbi is there's a tough call to be made. The team can handle him taking a break. Though... is it his break or Skye's? He's not sure. Maybe it doesn't matter now, now that they are... whatever it is they are. Coulson is comfortable without putting a name on it, and that has to be a first in his life, he thinks.

After dinner they just stay on the front porch for a while, even though it's getting colder by the minute. Skye still doesn't like the cold, but she doesn't want to turn in just yet.

"How long are we staying here?" she asks.

"Four days."

" _Four days_ ," she repeats. 

Coulson is not sure if that sounds like she thinks it's too long or too short.

He's not sure himself.

They haven't been alone this long since... well, _since_. He's a bit frightened it's too soon, the connection too tenuous. Change doesn't come easy for either of them, precisely because so much change has been _forced_ upon them. They distrust change.

They are cautious people.

Even here, in this place, in this moment all of their own, they are being cautious with each other.

"Do you remember our trip to Shanghai last year?" she asks all of the sudden, looking at him in a funny way.

"Yes. Not very fruitful."

"No, it wasn't," she agrees. "But I think that's when it started."

" _What_ started?"

Skye glances at him, like she's studying him, but she refuses to reply. Coulson doesn't press. 

"My feet are frozen."

"Here," he offers.

"Really?"

Coulson nods. Skye moves their chairs together. The noise of the metal against the floor makes him grit his teeth and she smiles apologetically. She slips one foot from her shoe and lifts it towards him. He wraps his hand around it, warming her up.

Skye stares at him, like it's the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for her. He hopes it's not.

Their growing intimacy – it doesn't come as naturally as the sex.

The sex is easy, he was never worried about that.

It's the rest.

He rubs the ball of her heel. He likes her feet. He likes when she walks barefoot around his room after a late night – or an early morning. But he has never massaged her feet before. He has never done a lot of things before. Like this, right here, this moment.

"This is kind of domestic," Skye comments, like she's reading his mind.

"Well, that was kind of the point of this break."

She narrows her eyes at him a bit. Suddenly she looks older, maybe. Different.

"Is that something you want? Domestic?"

There's no fear in the question, but maybe there's a certain wariness. Like she worries she's taking him away from something. Like she worries she is wasting his time.

"Mmmm... I think I'm okay with wherever this is going," he tells her.

Skye has been through so much this past year. Of course she can't committ to something like this, not yet. Who knows if ever. But that's okay with him, and that's something new too. She doesn't have to decide, and she doesn't have to try, not for him. If Skye cannot promise domesticity, if she can't give him recitals and PTA meetings and that other life, that's all right. He gets to be by her side in exchange. She doesn't have to close herself off from people, but she doesn't have to give herself completely if she doesn't want to. Maybe she loves Coulson, too, he knows Skye well and he suspects she does, but that's besides the point.

(Right now it's besides the point.

Tomorrow that might change.)

Skye leans forward, raising her hand and stroking Coulson's cheek with the back of her palm.

"Thanks," she says.

"Why?"

She blinks slowly at him. The breeze pushes hair into her eyes for a moment.

"Because I'm more than okay with where this is going," she tells Coulson.

She moves her hand from his cheek to his neck, brushing the collar of his shirt playfully, then wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, tugging him closer to her. Her lips are cold, hardened against his mouth for a moment, all the off-season wind of an East Coast beach getting to her. Like her feet they soon warm up under Coulson's touch.

He wraps his fingers around her knee.

(Cautiously.)

And he kisses her back.


End file.
